


reunion

by technotraitor



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, DreamSMP - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29808189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/technotraitor/pseuds/technotraitor
Summary: the afterlife wasn't what everyone described it to be. it was scary, and tommy was alone. he was scared and alone, the memories of his death haunting him. the train station was dark, the people were scary. but, like always, his brother was there to make sure he felt safe.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 2
Kudos: 108





	reunion

**Author's Note:**

> his death was, indeed, based on tommy's actual canonical death by dream on the second. however, i based the afterlife off the cover of wilbur's album, your city gave me asthma! so, if you want a somewhat clearer image of the train station, look at that album cover!  
> warnings for - mention of death, slight abuse

it was cold. there was a humming in his ears, and the sound of quiet chatting. his knees were pulledd to his chest, laid on his side on cold metal. tommy was confused. wasn’t he just in the prison? with dream? an image of a hand curled into a fist made his eyes shoot open. oh, that’s right. he’d died. dream had beat him to death. he was dead.

holy shit. 

he was dead.

his breath caught in his throat. his body began to tremble as he pushed himself to a sitting position. it was dark, but he made out the sight of people standing around, most alone, some in groups of two or three. he saw windows, but all that was outside was darkness. it was like black paper was glued to the outside, not even a speck of light in sight. his eyes swept the interior of the room(?) he sat in, trying to keep his composure. on the wall was a sign, one that glowed a neon green.

'next stop: stanmore. check your wristbands for your stop location.'

was this a train? it felt like one, and it sure as hell sounded and looked like on. his heart stuttered, the situation he was in finally hitting him like a ton of bricks. he was dead, and he was alone. it wasn’t like the movies said - bright, glamorous, reuniting with lost family members. this wasn’t anything like you read in the books. everyone says that when you die, it’s peaceful, you don’t feel any sort of fear. what tommy was figuring out, was this was not true at all. this wasn’t bright and welcoming, it looked like a nightmare come real. and he was scared, so, so scared. this wasn’t glamorous nor emotional, it was horrifying and lonely. 

the train slowed to a stop, beeping as the doors began to open. a few people hugged their friends goodbye, joining the others beginning to exit the train. the writing on the sign flashed in his mind, and he looked down to his wrist. a wristband hung from his left wrist, which looked way smaller and paler than he ever remembered. stanmore, was what it read.

guess this was his stop.

pulling himself to his feet, tommy dragged his feet towards the door. people pushed him, trying to spot loved ones that were sts this stop. he grunted, stumbling off the train, turning back to it was the doors slammed closed with a gust of wind. as quick as the train turned up, it left, disappearing into the darkness of the tunnel ahead.

over the chatter and the shuffles, a voice spoke over the intercom, the noises from the shadow-like people dying out suddenly. “welcome to stanmore-” the voice started listing names and their ages, there were far too many, it made tommy feel sick, “and tommyinnit, age 16. enjoy your stay at stanmore.”

immediately, the voices picked back up. tommy had no idea how they were even speaking. it didn’t even seem like they had faces. all tommy saw were shadows, thin, tall and black. he didn’t even see arms. it was uncomfortable, unsettling even. there was a red hue over the entire station, occasionally flickering and bathing the station in a second of darkness. it was an aggressive red, one that reminded him too much of blood.

tommy stepped further into the station, the smell of smoke filling his lungs. was this it? as he scanned over the crowds, he couldn’t see an exit. it made him feel sick. was he trapped here? was this the afterlife everyone had spoken so brightly about? was this where wilbur had been for the past four months? he didn’t know how he would be able to stay here for longer than an hour. he already hated everything about this place.

yet, he still continued to walk further. he kept his head down, unwilling to look at the shadows around him. he couldn’t pull himself to think of them as people - they looked nothing like people. the floor was cracked, stepped-on cigarettes leaving clumps of ash on the floor.

in the back of the station, there was the strum of a guitar. it sounded familiar. strings were plucked, the starting rhythm of a familiar song filling the air. tommy followed the noise, slipping through the crowd. he heard humming, and it sent a bubble of joy into his chest. he didn’t know why. tommy quickened his pace, desperate to find the source of the song. it was the same song that put him to sleep in the ravine of pogtopia. the same song he heard from the room beside his own when he was a child. the same song that made him feel safe. 

but there was no way it was him.

his heart skipped as he pushed into the empty space. his breathing stopped, hands beginning to shake once more. sat on a barrel, was his brother. his older brother, who had died four months ago to the hands of their father. but there he sat, just feet away. he wore his cloak, still covered in patches, still with the rips and burns that his body had after the explosion. there was a hole in the back, which tommy could only assure was created when phil stabbed him. he cringed. tommy didn’t want to believe it was him, sat clutching his guitar, his gentle voice filling his ears, hands plucking the strings.

but it was him.

“wilbur?” he didn’t intend for his voice to come out as feeble and afraid as it did.

the sounds of the song stopped. wilbur froze where he sat, and tommy could only imagine the expression on his face. then he turned. and it all felt too real again. he wore his glasses, like he used to in l’manburg, his hair swept over his forehead as usual. but there was a cut across his cheek, and and split in his lip, both occupied with dried blood. the shirt he wore was torn in the front, alike the hole in the back of his cloak. the white shirt was stained with blood. “tommy?” 

the teenager smiled, tears pooling in his eyes. “hi, wilby.” he didn’t want to cry, but he couldn't stop the tears that began to roll down his cheeks.

he set his guitar down slowly. “you shouldn’t be here.” wilbur spoke softly. hearing his voice made tommy start to weep, hands extending out to grab ahold of his sleeve. “not yet.” he was begging. “please, tell me i’m imagining you.” but as he reached to grab tommy’s wrist softly, his heart sunk. it hit him like a train, eyes widening.

his little brother had died. at the age of sixteen. he was dead. his baby brother had died, and was now stuck here, in this hell of an afterlife.

“oh, tommy.” wilbur pulled the boy into him, resting his chin atop tommy’s head. he felt his brother begin to shake in his hold. it reminded him far too much of when tommy lost his first life. he’d spent hours crying into wilbur’s chest, sputtering out how afraid and alone he had felt. all he had was wilbur, then and now. “what happened to you?”

tommy held on tighter to his brother. “he killed me, wil.” his voice was muffled by the cloth of wilbur’s shirt, as he sobbed. “i was alone. and he- he beat me to death.” he didn’t feel fear as wilbur tightened his grip, not like he would have just months ago. all he felt, was safe. for months he’d been begging for his brother to return, to be able to hug him one last time. and here he was, fulfilling his wish.

hands cared through the back of tommy’s hair. “who did, toms?”

“dream.” it was a feeble whisper, wobbly and broken, but it was enough for wilbur.

the elder closed his eyes tightly. anger bubbled in his chest. dream hurt his baby brother, the brother wilbur swore to protect when they were children. “dad wasn’t there? techno wasn’t?” as tommy shook his head, the anger diminished into sadness, sympathy. tommy had been alone for so long. so alone to the point where he died to dream’s hands. again. he had died to dream, again. “i’m so sorry, tommy, i’m so sorry i wasn’t there.”

shaking his head, tommy sputtered out arguments. “‘s not your fault, wilbur.” as much as wilbur knew he tried to sound stern, his voice came weaker than ever heard before. “it never was.”

“i promised to protect you.” 

“you’re here now,” tommy moved away from his brother, staying at arm’s length, keeping his hand gripped onto the sleeve of his jacket, “we’re together again now.” his smile was sad, but wilbur could see the slight happiness he felt reuniting with him. tommy knew he should hate his brother, yell at him and cry over everything he’d done, but he couldn’t. he couldn’t bring a single cell in his body to actually hate wilbur. . “i missed you, so much.”

wilbur kept a hold of his wrist, afraid that if he let go for just a mere second, tommy would simply fade away before him. “i know, and i’m sorry i left you alone.” there was a silence, one filled with the chatter of the ‘people’ around them. wilbur never looked away from tommy, never released his wrist. “but i’m here, now, and i’ll never leave you alone again.”

“you promise?” 

wilbur smiled. “promise.”


End file.
